


Coming Home

by LadyAhiru



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Episode Fix-It: s01e06 Rare Species, First Kiss, Getting Together, Half Elf Jaskier, Internalized Homophobia, Kaer Morhen, M/M, Making Up, Now with a beta, POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Sad with a Happy Ending, Self-Hatred, Self-Reflection, post mountain break up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:28:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27858345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAhiru/pseuds/LadyAhiru
Summary: Every year before they separate for Winter the Witcher and his bard spent a week together at a small town at the foot of the Mountains that are home to Kaer Morhen. This year Jaskier was not coming.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 106
Kudos: 682
Collections: Geralt is Sorry, Just.... So cute...





	1. Jaskier was not coming

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by my friend's amazing Art: https://twitter.com/ThirstyOpossum/status/1334134989554929667?s=20
> 
> my Editor: TayTay0403! (https://twitter.com/TatumJahnke)  
> you can find me here: https://twitter.com/LadyAhiru

Geralt watched from the window as another leaf slowly made its way from the big tree that stood right outside of the small town he was in onto the ground. A heavy sigh escaped his mouth as he kept staring at the tree; or, to be more precise, the road next to the tree. It was the only path that led in and out of the small hamlet - an unnamed collection of houses. The only reason this place even had a small inn and general goods store was because it was the last town on the foot of the mountain on which Kaer Morhen was situated.

Every year Geralt and Jaskier would travel here together in the late fall and say their goodbyes for the winter. Every spring they would meet there again, Jaskier’s face always brightly smiling as he flung his arms around Geralt in a hug, the Witcher pretending to hate every minute of it.

This fall Geralt had made his way into the small town by himself and rented their usual room - the only one that had a clear view of the path - and waited. He had already been waiting a whole week, and besides the fact that he felt the urge to move, he was also growing emotionally restless. 

_ Jaskier was not coming _ .

Cursing under his breath Geralt slung the tiny blanket he was covered with tighter around himself, throwing it over his head, so that only his face was visible and kept staring out the window in an angry and brooding matter. 

_ Jaskier was not coming. _

He felt cold, but he had felt this way ever since the day on the Dragon hunt when he made the biggest mistake of his almost century-long life by sending the young Half-Elf Bard away. He pushed the thoughts of doubt and regret back down as a toxic ball of guile rose in his stomach and made its way up his throat. 

_ Jaskier was not coming. _

And if he was truly honest to himself, Geralt would know that the bard would also not be here come spring. 

“Fuck.” 

His eyes started to sting, partly from refusing to blink as he kept the road in focus, partly from the deep realization that this time he had gone too far, had pushed too hard, and he had lost the only friend he had ever had. 

With angry force, he wiped the rising tears from his eyes and huffed at his own reflection in the glass. Geralt had to press his eyes shut for a second, clawing his nails into his own hands to keep from screaming. Jaskier had been his friend, but that was not all. Moments before he had said those dreadful words when the bard had asked him to go to the coast, Geralt had realized that he felt more for the singer than just friendship.

He remembered it clearly. He had suddenly been so overwhelmed by love and longing that he had to just disregard Jaskier’s attempt to get him to leave and seek out Yennefer if only to get away from the ache in his heart. Panic had surged through him, a panic of losing Jaskier for good should the bard learn of his unnatural feelings. Yennefer was the safe choice, the easy choice; and in reality, no choice at all. Fake magical feelings made by a bond that wasn’t true and yet the feelings he had for Jaskier had outshined whatever he had felt for Yen. And even though every particle of his being had screamed, he had left Jaskier behind and spent the night with the sorceress before he had lost her too. 

The things he had said to Jaskier had not just been lies and wrong, it was how he felt about himself and how screaming those vile things at the bard had been  liberating , to get them out into the world even if he had chosen the worst possible target to shout his twisted self-hatred at. Hatred from not only being a Witcher but also being even more mutated than his brothers, for the sick longing he felt when he looked at Jaskier, another man, and hatred for the way his own heart burnt whenever Jaskier touched him.

The Witcher had hoped, after calming down, to see Jaskier again, to find him shortly after, but the bard had been gone. Usually, when they had a fight the bard would leave for a while to lick his wounds, but like clockwork, they would always meet again in this small town to at least makeup before winter. 

_ Jaskier was not coming. _

Geralt watched slowly as the sun set outside his window. He watched as frost and ice crept in with the night. He watched as the first snow of winter drifted to the ground and covered his window. He watched as ice flowers slowly built on the cold cracked glass, and then he could not watch anymore. His eyes shimmered with too many tears, his vision blurry, his breathing suddenly coming in sharp uneven gasps.

_ Jaskier was not coming. _

With an inhuman howl, the Witcher dropped from the chair onto the floor, biting down on his own lips until they bled to keep himself from sobbing like a wounded animal as hot streaks of tears flew down his cheeks. Shaking, he leaned against the wooden walls, holding himself and trying to fight off the rising cold of his soul. 

When he had finally gained some form of composure back, hours had passed. Silently, he stood up and took a seat again, staring outside, still a flicker of hope burning in his heart.

He watched for four more days before giving up. 

_ Jaskier was not coming. _


	2. Jaskier was not leaving

Geralt had waited way too long,  meaning he was damned to lead Roach onto the mountain path by foot. The last days had brought several feet of snow, and by the time he had finally managed to pull himself together enough to get moving again, it reached up over his knees. Roach was not impressed, unhappy with the cold and his brooding demeanour, but she still followed him where he led and it made Geralt's heart tug. Fuck. When had he gotten so fucking soft?

Huffing, he shook his head. He knew when he had gotten soft. Twenty-two years ago, when he had allowed a young bard to follow him and wiggle his way behind his walls right into his heart. Now it was too late, the ache of Jaskier’s now permanent absence would never subside, and Geralt was aware he had to learn how to live with the constant pain of his failure.

The track up the mountain was dangerous and slow under  _ normal _ circumstances, but the heavy snowfall made it almost impossible to move forward. It took Geralt almost three days to reach the last stop before the keep, a small hill on the other side, a day away from Kaer Morhen with clear visibility of the Keep. It looked close, but he knew it was at least another day ahead.

He had barely slept ever since he had reached the previous meeting point two weeks ago and eaten even less. He wondered if the coldness he felt would ever stop hurting him again. He was hungry, yet the idea of food made him sick, and a small part of him wondered if it wouldn’t be better to just lie down in the snow and stop breathing altogether.

Roach made a neighing sound next to him and he turned around to look at her where he had left her underneath a small circle of trees. His heart skipped a few beats and the ball of anxiety he had carried with him since the dragon hunt burst open.

There next to his trusted mare stood his bard, decked out in dark winter clothing, looking as boneless and tired as he felt himself, petting Roaches neck with slow strokes and a weak smile on his face. Geralt stopped dead in his tracks, golden eyes were blown wide open in shock, heart racing unnaturally fast for even a mutant. He had stopped breathing as he looked at Jaskier, truly looked at him for maybe the first time in two decades.

The bard had lost some weight, his skin a bit ashen and pale, dark circles under his eyes. His lips looked dry, small cracks covering the usual plump flesh as if Jaskier had bitten down and chewed on his own lips in stress. His lips were also pulled up in a smile, but it looked weak and wrong and didn’t reach his cornflower blue eyes, which shimmered with unshed tears and something that Geralt couldn’t pinpoint, too much a stranger to emotions to clearly identify it. Was it sadness? Pain? Longing? Was he wounded?

Panic rising in his chest, the Witcher  inhaled deeply, taking in Jaskier’s scent even over the gap that bridged them, and was relieved when he could not smell any wound or sickness on his bard. His heart ached as he was hit with the familiar scent of parchment and lavender that always surrounded Jaskier.

The bard stared right back at him, not moving forwards but also not turning back, his hands curled to fists and pressed against his thighs where they were slightly shaking. Geralt opened his mouth only to shut it close again, his clashing teeth making a harsh sound that interrupted the howling winter wind. Roach turned her back to them, as if to give them privacy, and shuffled a few feet away from Jaskier who now leaned back against the tree as if he was looking for something to hold on to.

Time stretched between them, snow still falling, the smell of evergreen and winter surrounding them. Jaskier had always been the emotionally braver of the two, so it was him who finally broke the silence after what seemed like hours.

“Melitele's tits, Geralt. You look like shit.”

The Witcher snorted but did not respond otherwise, his mind still racing, trying his best to situate his features into something that could count as a soft and inviting expression. 

He could clearly see Jaskier’s Adam's apple bobbing as the bard swallowed nervously, his winter coat open at the neck, his scarf only loosely hanging around him. He stood straighter when Geralt didn’t answer, ran a hand frustratedly through his hair, and sighed with exasperation.

“Look, I… I know you never want to see me again, and… I get it.” 

Geralt wanted to scream at him that he was wrong, but his mouth felt dry as sand and so unable to father words he could only stare.

“I just… I was half on my way to Oxenfurt when I turned back, and… I guess I wanted to see you one last time to… say goodbye?”

Shaking, the bard slung his arms around himself and fixed his eyes on a point over Geralt's left shoulder, not able to look the Witcher directly into the eyes.

“I… Hennick said I missed you by a few hours. That you waited for me? And I hoped… I… just wanted to… fuck, this is stupid. What the fuck am I even doing you hate me and--“

Geralt had started to move without his mind’s consent, his legs making their way over to Jaskier in quick large steps and he pushed the bard against the tree, keeping him enclosed with his arms and body so the other could not flee.

“Geralt!? What are you-“

Leaning forward, tears dripping down his cheeks, Geralt closed his eyes and very gently pressed his mouth to Jaskier’s. He could hear the bard gasp and inhale with shock, and Geralt was about to take a step back when Jaskier’s arms moved under his and  held him close, holding his shoulders firmly. Geralt felt like he was drifting. A hot coal of burning energy suddenly disbursed the coldness he had felt as Jaskiers right leg came up and slung around his hip, the bard's mouth opening carefully against his and a testing tongue warily licking over his lips.

The Witcher propped one of his arms up against the tree while his other hand gripped the back of Jaskiers head, weaving his fingers through the soft strands of chestnut hair as he tried to convene all his feelings into the kiss. He was overwhelmed with the taste of Jaskier, lavender and sweet sugary lemon drops, as he finally released the bard to give him a chance to breathe. “Geralt!” the bard whined, his head following Geralt's movement not ready to end the kiss yet. 

“Don’t leave me.”

Geralt was surprised at the desperate whine that left his mouth and how tiny his own voice sounded in his ears, but he had no time to feel ashamed. 

“ _ Please _ , Jaskier… please.” He was aware that he was begging, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the bard in his arms.

“I will do better. Please, Julian. I… I will talk more and I… please don’t leave again.”

Jaskier stared at him with an open mouth, eyes blown wide in horror as he gently wiped the tears from Geralt's cheeks.

“Julek…please…I’ll do anything. I-“

“Anything?”

Nodding frantically, Geralt buried his head in the groove of Jaskiers neck, inhaling deeply and trying to get as much of his scent into his nose as possible, afraid he would soon have to let go.

“Yes. Whatever you want, I… please… Jaskier…”

The bard stared at him, and then his soft yet callused fingers lifted Geralt's chin up. He was pulled into another searing kiss that made his belly twist with pleasure and anticipation. 

“Geralt…” This time Jaskier’s voice was a soft whisper against his lips, full of promise and yearning. He gestured to the keep in the distance.

“Take me home, Geralt.”

The Witcher took a step back, letting Jaskier pull his leg back down. He fastened the bard’s cloak around his shoulders, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck. He then took his hand, gently lacing their fingers together and pressing soft touches with his thumb into Jaskier’s skin. Geralt clicked his tongue and when Roach came trotting closer, he took her reins into his other hand.

He gave Jaskier a hopeful yet hesitant look as he started on the last section of the path to Kaer Morhen, his mare and his bard by his sides where they both belonged. Jaskier pushed closer while they walked, slinging his arm around Geralt's midsection and resting his head against the Witcher's shoulders. 

He did not let go of Geralt until they reached the Witcher’s home, where after greetings, they moved into Geralt's room and did not leave it for almost a week. 

_ Jaskier was not leaving. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if I should add a chapter of their first week at Kaer Morhen *caugh*


	3. A Night in the Cold

Geralt could feel how the tension drained from Jaskiers body with each step they took forward to Kaer Morhen as the bard slowly relaxed at his side. The Witcher knew he needed to say something, to apologize, to explain but the words did neither form in his mind nor found their way to his dry mouth. Jaskiers arm was still wrapped around his midsection, clinging on as if he was afraid the Witcher would vanish when in reality it was the other way round and Geralt feared to lose his bard again with only one careless spoken word.

The sun was quickly setting and he knew they needed to find shelter soon before the night truly hit, too cold and dark for Jaskier to move on and still too far from Kaer Morhen to push through the night. Geralt did not recognise his own voice when he finally spoke, deep and gravely as usual but full of a softness he wished he could have expressed years earlier.

“There is a small cave just ahead, just big enough for the three of us. We should make a camp there.” He paused for a moment before adding an unsure “If that is alright with you?”

Jaskier hummed next to him and nodded, the movement clearly noticeable against Geralts shoulders as they walked on. The Witcher could still feel a big ball of anxiety in his belly but he was able to keep it in check by focusing on the other emotions that Jaskier brought out in him. Hope, Devotion and Love.

When they reached the cave, he had to let got of Jaskier, who in response made an unhappy huffing sound that made Geralt smile to himself. He also didn’t want to let go for longer than necessary to set up camp.

To show that he was truly trying, that their dynamic had changed he pushed Roache's reins into the bard’s hands. “Can you brush her down, while I set up?”

He noticed, with rising regret about his past actions, how shocked Jaskier looked and how, his beautiful face, turned from a surprised expression to a soft warm smile, as he nodded and carefully unloaded the Leather saddlebags from his mares back and started to get her comfortable.

For a moment Geralt did not move, just stared at his bard as he carefully brushed Roach down, quietly talking to her and he cursed himself even more that for two decades he had mistreated his companion and that he had them robbed of precious time they could have spent together.

He was still unsure how the future would look for them, his lips still tingling with Jaskiers sweet kiss and all he knew was that he would do anything in his powers to get Jaskier to kiss him again, to smile openly again, to make the bard happy.

The Witcher fought the voice in his head that told him that those urges were wrong if someone as wonderful as Jaskier would kiss him eagerly, how wrong could it truly be. Maybe the voice in his head was wrong, it would not be the first time that Geralt was harsher to himself than necessary.

“Geralt?”

Jaskiers soft voice brought him back to reality and he hummed instead of a reply.

“Is this alright? Am I doing this right?”

There was an underlying uneasiness in Jaskiers voice and Geralt cursed himself again for making the bard feel unqualified to brush down a horse. It was a simple enough task and he was sure that Jaskier was more than up to it, which a quick look over to Roach confirmed.

“Yes…..” The Witcher swallowed hard and pressed the next words out with force. “Good job.”

The way Jaskier suddenly beamed at him, blue eyes shimmering with a large smile on his pink lips made Geralts heart speed up once more. He did not know what else to say but Jaskier was already turning back to Roach and continuing his work, so Geralt slightly huffed and finally started to set up the rest of the camp.

He made sure to put their bedrolls as close together as possible, near the small fire before passing by Jaskier to leave the small cave.

“Where…where are you going?”

Jaskier smiled softly as he grabbed for Geralts arm.

“I'll be back as soon as possible Julek, just looking if I can hunt down some hares.”

“Oh…okay…” Leaning in Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralts neck, the soft fur of his sleeves tickling the Witchers cheeks before pressing a warm kiss against Geralt lips.

“Don’t be too long.”

Nodding Geralt kissed him once more before leaving the cave behind.

Outside he stalked a bit deeper into the forest and stopped when he was sure that Jaskier could neither see nor hear him anymore, taking a deep breath and letting the cool winter air hit his lungs, enjoying the burning sensation of it and calming his nerves.

His hand came up to his mouth and his fingertips slightly crazed over his lips as he could still feel the soft tingle of Jaskiers kiss. He wanted to kiss him again and again until they would both be out of breath and panting, and yet he was also scared of it. Kissing lead to other things and even though the idea of bringing Jaskier pleasure sounded wonderful in his mind he was neither emotionally nor physically ready to expose himself like that in front of another man.

Besides, he still owed Jaskier the apology of a lifetime but he was uncertain how to find the right words or if there were even right words, to begin with. Geralt often was called dumb by people who took no time to look underneath his stoic demeanour and broody facade but he was as well educated and smart as his brothers, he just had a harder time vocalizing his thoughts. He was well aware that a grunted: “I am sorry.” Would no cut it, besides Jaskier deserved honest words of affection and care.

Stalking through the snow he wondered how his brothers would handle the situation. On the first glance Lambert was loud and brazen, a profanity or curse always on his lips and eager to start a fight. If you looked deeper thought you would see that Lambert had a shy side, a soft side that he only allowed showing to his brothers and his friend Aiden.

Geralt had always thought that the Cat and his youngest brother must be more than friends but Lambert had never confirmed anything until last year when he had brought the other Witcher with him to Kaer Morhen, on the brink of death and had nursed him back to health with so much love and care it had made Geralt first realise that his feelings for Jaskier might not be as platonic as he had thought.

Eskel never made any effort to hide his love for music and poetry and the softer things in life. Sitting down in the snow he looked up at the dark sky and the stars and wondered why he felt how he did. Neither his brothers no Vesemir had ever made him feel that it was shameful to desire another man and yet when he had first walked the path, he had witnessed a man being hung for exactly this, his only crime being loving someone of the same gender.

He remembered it clearly, how the man had smiled and closed his eyes while they had fastened the noose around his neck and-

Shaking his head Geralt tried to push those memories out of his mind, it had been almost a hundred years since then and he was aware that homosexuality was not illegal in most kingdoms anymore. His worst fear was hurting Jaskier and yet he had done so with his words regardless, he knew soft kisses could only help to soften the pain so much but what could he even say to the young half-elf, that could make it right again.

Jaskier had seemed happy to forgive him, not even expecting more words out of him but Geralt knew he needed to do better, wanted to do better if there was any future to be had together as more than friends. He wanted to wake up next to Jaskier for as long as possible, for the rest of his life if the gods would permit it and so after finally catching 3 small hares, he stalked back to the small cave.

When Geralt arrived back at their camp, an apology on his lips that he had only been able to catch three small hares the smell of roasting vegetables and garlic greeted him. Jaskier turned at his approaching footsteps, still smiling so openly and warm that it made his heart hurt in his chest and with two quick steps he walked over to the fire and pulled Jaskier close again, pressing kisses all over the bard’s face.

Jaskiers bright laughter hit his ears with joy as he brushed his lips over the bard’s delicate brow bow and then over his eyelids, down his nose and up his cheeks again to reach the other side. Giggling Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralts neck, weaving his fingers into white strands of silken hair, slightly holding on as Geralts mouth finally found his own.

He could both hear and feel Jaskier sighing against him, the bard's warm tongue licking into his mouth and he could feel how Jaskier tugged onto his hair to get him to tilt his head further. Closing his eyes the Witcher let himself be fully consumed by the feeling of Jaskier in his arms, affection and happiness washing over him and slightly whining as the other took a step back to regain his breath.

“Hi…”

For once in his life, Geralt allowed himself a warm open smile. “Hi yourself.”

Laughing Jaskier took the hares out of Geralts grasp and gestured to the fire, where he had started to boil a hearty stew in a small pot. “I had some vegetables in my pack, mostly carrots and onions and I thought that would go well together….”

Nodding Geralt sat down onto their bedrolls and together they skinned the rabbits, dicing the meat into small pieces and adding it to the roasting vegetables. Humming Geralt opened his own pack and pulled a cheap bottle of wine out, adding it to the stew and smiling at Jaskier who had started to scribble into one of his notebooks.

After dinner, they curled up next to each other and when Geralt hesitantly wrapped his arm around Jaskiers midsection the bard turned and buried his head against his chest, smiling and smelling of warmth and home. Geralt could not wait to take him to Kaer Morhen in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No worries. I will continue with this Fic until their week in Kaer Morhen, but since I don't know when I will try to make every Chapter complete ;)


	4. Chapter 4

Waking up had always been a quick affair for the Witcher, not sleeping deeply, always on alert and subconsciously watching, listening for any nearing danger, he was usually awake and ready to get up in seconds. This morning was different, and it took him a while to blink the sleep from his golden Witcher eyes. Rubbing over his face Geralt grunted and huffed in confusion as something warm and heavy laid on his chest, callused hands wrapped around his midsection in a surprisingly firm grip and a leg wiggled between his own, pressing down and holding him in place.

His first instinct was to push whoever was lying so intimately close to him off and to throw a punch but when he inhaled, Jaskiers lavender smell reached his senses and he realised that the chestnut mop of hair on his chest belonged to his bard. Listening closely Geralt could hear that Jaskier breathing was still deep and even, the bard was not waking up yet and Geralt carefully pulled the blankets back up his bards back right up to fit under his chin. Jaskier was smacking his lips in his sleep and drool had collected around one of Geralt shirt buttons but the Witcher did not care.

He tried to relax and wrap his own arms around the bard and yet he still felt guilty for the feelings he experienced. The first morning light made its way into the small cave and for a moment Geralt pretended that he was fine, that he was not scared to lose Jaskier again, that he was not afraid to scare the other by showing his feelings and desires. A part of him felt like he was walking on glass, not sure if Jaskier would hate it more if he gave in to his urges and ravished him or if he ignored the hot ball of want in his belly.

Blinking he stared upon the stone ceiling and took a deep breath. He needed to find the right words first to tell Jaskier how sorry he was and to find a way to show him how much he lo- cared for him. It was scary to think of love, what if Jaskier did not love him back? Or only loved him like he had loved all his previous conquests? Fast and hot and so very fleeting. Before Geralt could think himself into a panic attack Jaskier moved in his arms and without opening his eyes the bard pressed a soft morning kiss to the corner of Geralts lips.

His voice was deep and raspy from sleep and Geralt thought that it was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. “Is it morning already?”

“Hmm.”

“Mhm….but I don’t want to get up yet. It's so warm here with you.”

Snuggling closer Jaskier brushed his naked feet against Geralts calves, smiling in his half-woken state.

“It is warm because you are pressing your demon feet against me.”

Snorting Jaskier nodded, the movement ruffling Geralts shirt who didn’t really mind the cold press of Jaskiers feet against his skin.

“You are comfortable warm, dear Witcher.”

“Hmm…..if we leave soon you get to sleep in an actual bed tonight.”

Jaskier was silent for a bit and when his voice rang out once more there was underlying insecurity in his remark.

“A bed or your bed?”

Pressing his eyes shut and glad that the bards head was resting on his chest so he didn’t have to look him in the eyes Geralt took a large leap of faith.

“My bed...if you want...” The Witcher whispered almost inaudible but suddenly Jaskier sat up and pulled on the blankets.

“Well, chop-chop then! What are we waiting for! Let’s go! Sun is already up!” Flabbergasted Geralt looked at his bard who was gesturing wild with his arms. "No dilly-dallying my darling Witcher! Get up! Up!" 

Laughing and bursting with energy Jaskier started to pack up their small camp before Geralt was even done sitting up and with wonderful amazement, the Witcher realised that maybe things would be okay, that maybe he was allowed to have this. To love and cherish and to be loved and cherished back.

He walked over to Roach to put the bedrolls back into their place when Jaskiers hand wrapped gently around his wrist and he was pulled slightly up, straight into the bards’ arms as a warm kissed was pressed to his lips.

“Good morning by the way.”

“Hm…good morning Julek.”

Beaming at the nickname Jaskier kissed him once more and checked one last time that they had packed everything before lacing their fingers back together, slowly walking out of the cave into the bright morning light.

Their future and Kaer Morhen right in front of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am sorry i am still not done XD

**Author's Note:**

> Julek is a diminutive or petname form of Julian, very intimate;)


End file.
